Birthday
by Jennifer Jolie
Summary: It's Carrot's birthday... Look forward to lots of CA fluff and plenty of fish! Chapter 5: The morning after. What else can I say. FINISHED.
1. Chapter 1

There Be Little Plot at the moment but I'm also always grateful for ideas! And reviews. (nudge nudge)

This fic is partly the fault of the Garoupa I had for dinner. It had the audacity not to be iced soon enough after it was caught and thus acquired an unafamiliar texture and a rather fishy smell. I sort of had a running bet with Raen about having a chicken in every chapter of this other thing we wrote, so I guess it's fish for this one.

Watchman, I hope you don't mind I sort of borrowed your Nobby-in-the-bathroom idea.

--

Sergeant Angua stumbled wearily into the Watch House, letting the wind slam the door shut behind her. They'd finally traced a fantastic jewellery heist to It Was This Big Flopwaddle's Fish Emporium, and guess who had been sent in to sniff the theft out. She did have the best nose in the Watch, she admitted modestly to herself, but even then, it'd taken her the best part of an hour to find the jewels wedged right at the bottom of an enormous bin labelled 'Goatfish(1) Guts: Be Sure to Don Your Clothespeg', while Vimes and Carrot desperately distracted Mr. It Was This Big himself, who had taken to waving a cleaver around meaningfully. The man had been arrested, the day had been saved, and all three Watchmen smelt strongly of fish. Then again, to Angua, everything smelt like fish at the moment. She sighed. It was as bad as a stink bomb. Her sense of smell would be on the blink for weeks.

Now Carrot had stayed outside to have a private word with Vimes, and Angua had gladly accepted the honor of having the first shower. And it would be really heavenly to empty her boots of Goatfish slime -

Angua knocked on the bathroom door.

"There's nobody in here!" called the voice of one Nobby Nobbs.

Angua gritted her teeth. She was not in the mood for this. "Nobby, get out."

"How did you- I mean, nobody's- I mean," Nobby amended hastily, "I can't, Miss Angua."

Angua growled.

"It's nothing pers'nal, Miss Angua," Nobby said quickly, "I'm putting up a Protest against Vimes's new tax cuts."

"What? But we don't even pay the Watch tax."

"But we pinch from it now and then, don't we?"

Angua sighed. "Yes, but there's plenty for a drink now and then if you don't grab fistfuls of it every fortnight and run off, do you catch my drift?"

There was a pause. "Are you eating fish, Miss Angua?"

Angua counted to ten and then asked, "Why protest in there, Nobby? Can't you, I don't know, protest by Vimes's desk or something?"

"No," said Nobby firmly. "There's a privy in here and a steady supply of water for the cocoa."

Those words do not belong in the same sentence, Angua thought to herself, resignedly trudging out. A bath would have to wait until she got back to Mrs. Cake's.

Carrot was waiting by the door when she stepped out.

"Nobby," she said shortly. "Protesting against tax cuts in the bathroom."

"Oh. "Oh," said Carrot cheerfully, dismissing it just like that. He gave her a quick smile and fell into step beside her.

"I really hate those goatfishes's guts," Angua grumbled. "Vimes gone back to young Sam?"

"Definitely past his bedtime, though, he's probably asleep."

Angua snorted. They walked a while in relative silence.

Ah, the Shades. Rats, refuse, choking smoke of an unknown origin, a pickpocketer going after Carrot's wallet. A pickpocketer not going after Carrot's wallet anymore.

"Not a nice thing to do," Carrot said cheerfully while bending the wound-be thief's wrist back, in a tone suggesting he'd merely found a beloved puppy doing a rather less beloved thing on a nice rug. "Now, if I were on duty-" Carrot flashed his badge, which he'd pinned to the inside of his shirt, apparently he couldn't bear to take it off, "-I would have to report you. But you look like a good lad so I'm going to let you off with a firm warning if you promise not to do it again."

Angua growled again from behind him - or maybe it was her stomach growling. She thought the fish had taken the edge off her hunger, but apparently it hadn't.

The boy visibly jumped. "I promise," he stammered.

"Or Sergeant Angua here will come after you, hear? Now," Carrot released his wrist, "Here's a dollar, get yourself and your friends there hiding in the shadows a hot meal and everything will look brighter, okay?" The boy scampered off.

"A hot meal wouldn't be too bad," Angua said thoughtfully. Carrot checked his wallet.

"Sorry," he said, looking really miserable, "that's it."

"Damn tax cuts," Angua muttered bitterly to herself.

"Ah, the Shades," Carrot remarked fondly.

They had reached Mrs. Cake's establishment. Carrot cleared his throat uneasily. It was their nightly routine.

"Good night, Carrot," Angua smiled, leaning against the doorframe.

"Er... good night, Angua." Carrot leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on the lips. Then after subtly (so he thought) glancing around to see that no one was around, he drew her up against him for a properly long kiss and for a while, the world really did seem brighter.

Angua was still feeling slightly giddy as she made her way to her room. She knew she had a silly smile on her lips. But she was also very, very tired. Maybe she would just sit down on the bed for a while-

Something rapped sharply against the window. She jumped up, fully awake, head now spinning in a very unpleasant way.

"Who's there?" she hissed.

"It's Vimes," Vimes hissed back. "I need to talk to you for a second."

Angua groaned and opened the window. The breeze blowing in was fishy. "Can it wait till tomorrow, sir?"

"Not after I came all the way here. And at least you get to sleep afterwards. When I finally get home, young Sam is going to chuck Where's My Cow at me and I'll have to explain to Sybil-" He stopped himself and said, "Do you know what day next Thursday is?"

Angua scrunched up her brow in concentration. She did not want to think. "Is it the Day of the Siege of Daffodils, sir?"

"Well, yes, but not the answer I was looking for."

"The day chopsticks were invented(2)?"

"I didn't know that," Vimes said thoughtfully. "What I meant was, next Thursday is Carrot's birthday."

The fog in Angua's head suddenly cleared. "Carrot's birthday?" she repeated dumbly.

"It's alright, I didn't think you would know. It's just that I read one of his parents's letters. Over his shoulder. Um, by accident, of course"  
Angua very much doubted that anyone could read over Carrot's shoulder without at least trying very hard, but answered, "I see, sir."

"I've told him I especially need him on duty next Thursday. He looked sort of strained but agreed, which is odd for him because he's usually jumping for joy." Vimes rolled his eyes. "I was just thinking us at the Watch could do a little something for him, nothing big or fancy, but just something to show how much he means to us, you know?"

Angua knew.

"I've told everyone else," Vimes continued, "it's just so damn hard to get you away from Carrot for one second. Uh, I've put you in charge of the whole thing actually, but Cheery seemed quite willing to help."

"That would be good, sir," Angua said gratefully. Cheery would be a big help.

"Anyway... that's all," Vimes finished awkwardly. "Oh, and one more thing... Do you have any idea how old he is?"

Angua blinked. "Uh..."

Vimes's shoulders sagged. "No one really seems to know. Maybe his own mother doesn't know. Are dwarves picky about that sort of thing?"

"I'll ask Cheery," Angua said firmly. "And I'll see you tomorrow, sir."

"Good night, Angua." Vimes slipped off into the night.

Angua unbuckled her breastplate and changed gratefully into her pajamas.(3) Carrot's birthday! She'd never given it a thought. As she slid under the bedclothes, she remembered, next Thursday's full moon...

At Number One Second Avenue, Sam Vimes the first was indeed being hit on the head repeatedly by Sam Vimes the second. And at the Watch House, Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson was fast asleep and snoring, without a care in the world.

--(4)

(1)Goatfish, like their namesakes, really do eat most everything they can get their jaws around, and even some things they can't. This would explain their extremely complex digestive system and the numerous digestive juices secreted, enabling them to digest rubber, concrete, tin, gobs of horseradish and the many other things that citizens casually chuck into the Ankh.

(2)By a fellow who found that spearing his squishi on an oversized toothpick made it much easier to eat. With two sticks he could eat with both hands. The name and fancy hand movements were later invented for the tourists.

(3)Don't give me that but-they-weren't-invented-yet nonsense. Pajamas have existed since the beginning of time, even before The Trousers of Time, so there.

(4)You know you want to click the little 'review' button down there! Also... how old d'you think Carrot should be? 


	2. Chapter 2

We might know when Thud! comes out, but I personally don't see Carrot as twenty-two, so I'm going with twenty-five (although I did expect him to be older, the argument is sound). I haven't read Guards! Guards! and I hope I don't make plot mistakes because of that, but oh well.

I was describing a particularly cold, nasty, fishy fish that my dad likes to my mum and she said it's a rabbitfish. I thought this amusing and went to do research. Turns out here on Roundworld we also have cowfish, pigfish, frogfish, toadfish, catfish, dogfish, wolffish, monkeyfish, turkeyfish, elephantfish, dragonfish, lionfish, mousefish, ratfish, ghostfish, snakefish, flower horn fish and yes, genuine goatfish. I find them all astonishingly ugly and will try to use each at least once!

--

Vimes massaged his temples, staring down at the paperwork on his desk.

"You see what I mean, sir," Carrot said almost apologetically.

"Yes, I do," Vimes replied, "And I don't like it."

The figures didn't add up. Nearly half of Pretty Shiny Things had vanished, and not all the pieces had been found at Flopwaddle's Fish Emporium. Sure, the robin's egg diamonds and chicken egg rubies, or whatever they were, had turned up, as had all the gold necklaces and bracelets, but a few small rings and all the strings of pearls were nowhere to be found.

"I don't understand it, sir, we searched the whole shop. Sergeant Angua says they couldn't hide a grain of salt in there without her finding it."

"We checked Flopwaddle's house, I presume?"

"He lived in the shop," Carrot reminded him. "And he slept in a big empty fish tank."

Vimes sighed. "Stay on the case, Carrot. We'll get to the bottom of this."

Carrot saluted. "Right you are, sir. Ah..." he hesitated, seemed to brace himself, and then asked, "What will you be needing me for on Thursday, sir?"

"Important budget meeting," Vimes said smoothly. "Since Nobby brought it up I decided it's time we discussed the issue. The entire Watch is expected to attend." He looked Carrot in the eye. "And I'm sure I can count on _you._"

Carrot _squirmed._(1)

"Something the matter?"

"It's just that... personal issues, sir."

Vimes frowned. He seemed to be permanently frowning these days. "Angua didn't say anything..."

"It's not Angua, sir," Carrot said quickly, "Just personal. Uh, would it be alright if I took a few days after that off, sir?"

Vimes made a show of squinting, thinking hard and tapping his chin. "We'll have to see about that," he said finally.

Carrot nodded, and left, leaving Vimes with a vaguely uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was obviously bothering Carrot. Something was definitely wrong.

But for now, a more pressing issue. Was Nobby still in the bathroom? Vimes stood up, stretched, and navigated through perilously whole piles of paperwork, dirty coffee cups and brochures Sybil had sent him on a new sort of dragon enclosure. He banged on the bathroom door.

No reply.

Vimes pushed it open tentatively, and heaved a sigh of relief. Empty, and reasonably clean. Even Nobby, he supposed, must get out now and then.

On his way out something caught his eye. Grinning, Vimes retrieved the tin of cocoa and replaced it in its rightful place in the pantry. He wiped sweat from his brow. If stealing from Nobby felt so good, something was definitely wrong with him.

--

Angua was on a ladder, carefully glueing a large sheet of wax paper to the top of a window. Cheery Littlebottom stood at the foot of the ladder, helpfully proffering a pot of glue.

"I drew up the list of refreshments," Cheery was saying. "Ah, here we are: carrot bread, carrot sticks, carrot juice..."

Angua winced. "You think so, Cheery?"

"Sure, it's kind of cute, isn't it?" Cheery hummed a bit.

"Is there anything on that without carrots in it? Meat? Rat?" Angua had to descend two rungs of the ladder just to reach the glue pot.

"Yeah, that's right, spot over there, to your right. Um, I don't know about meat, but I could get fish..." Angua had a roll of paper between her teeth which muffled her groan. "I thought squishi might be good, since it's also the day chopsticks were invented... Is that enough, you think?"

Angua took the roll from her mouth and slapped it the wall. "Beer, Cheery?"

Cheery sighed. "I guess so. I hope it doesn't turn out to be an all-out dwarf party, though."

"Gold, gold, gold, gold?"

Cheery sighed again. "Gold, gold, gold, gold."

"Tonight, then?" Angua said.

"Yep. You just make sure you keep Carrot out of the way."

Angua got off the ladder and they moved to the next window. "Cheery, do dwarves eat birthday cakes?"

Cheery's brow creased. "You want to be careful with dwarf and desserts, Angua."

Angua slapped another sheet of paper down. They had more than half of the windows papered over now. "Desserts?"

"They offend some people," said Cheery seriously. "Particular ones..."

Angua stifled a giggle. "Oh?"

Cheery said, "Like pineapple tarts."

Angua was shocked, which did not happen often. "But those are really good!"

"Well... Carrot brought you to the dwarf bread museum, didn't he? Let's just say that dwarf pastries have... _connotations._"

Angua sniggered but disguised it with a hard slap to the next unfortunate sheet of paper. "So what do pineapple tarts mean?"

Cheery lips moved as she translated, "Revolting disease of the skin."

Ah, thought Angua to herself, a pineapple tart a-both your houses. Out loud she said, "But birthday cakes are alright?"

Cheery bobbed her head. "Oh yes, they are... peaceful. But for special birthdays only. Dwarves have a lot of birthdays. How old is Carrot?"

Angua bit the inside of her cheek. "What's your best guess?"

Cheery idly stirred the glue. To Angua, it smelt like fish. "Twenty-eight."

"Twenty-eight?"

"You humans age quickly," Cheery shrugged. "Twenty-five?"

"That sounds about right," Angua admitted.

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Because he might _guess!"_

"Okay, I know," said Cheery brightly. "Put eight candles on the cake for the eight years he's been with the Watch!"

Angua brushed glue thoughtfully onto the back of the last sheet. "You know, that might work."

She pasted the paper firmly over the window and stepped back off the ladder to admire her handiwork. Now the back room was basically moonlight-proof.

"Behind these walls it's fine," she told Cheery again, "but just in case..."

"Should stop gatecrashers too," Cheery agreed. "You know what dwarves party like."

"Thanks a lot, Cheery," Angua said gratefully, for the umpteenth time this week.

"Don't mention it. Ah... here comes Carrot."

"Hello, Cheery," said Carrot cheerily. "Angua, Vimes asked us to go on the long route around Quarry Lane and check on Flopwaddle's again. We're definitely short of loot."

Angua sighed. "Let me get changed."

"Vimes is convinced it's still at Flopwaddle's?" Cheery asked Carrot.

"Oh yes," Angua shouted from the lockers. She violently banged a door shut. "He has a sneaking suspicion that the cowfish have something to hide!"

"It's her PLT," Carrot assured Cheery. "On normal days, I'm sure she gets along fine with the cowfish."

--

The empty shop was faintly lit with the lights from the tanks of the turkeyfish(2). Angua sniffed the air tentatively.

"Want me to hold your clothes for you?" Carrot offered.

"No, not changing," Angua said shortly. "The smells are strong enough." She resisted the urge to throw up. The fish smells were all running together, from a horrible dark yellow(3) to a yellowish-green, and then a greeny-yellowish yellow and a yellowish-greeny-yellow green and then the color of the Ankh(4)-

Still, she could detect a very faint, familiar and welcoming smell. Hey?

"Carrot, are you eating chocolate?"

Carrot blinked. "No, should I be?"

"I'm certain..." Angua let her words trail off and followed her nose. But the chocolate smell was nearly everywhere.

Chocolate?

--

"Okay!" said Cheery shrilly. "Is everyone here?"

"Everyone except Carrot and Angua," someone called out.

"And Nobby!" someone else contributed. There was a roar of laughter.

"Back in the bathroom," Vimes muttered gloomily.

"Good!" Cheery said. "Now, does anyone not know what's happening this Thursday?"

There may have been hands, but Cheery couldn't see them. Undaunted, Cheery continued, "Right, now there's a traditional song dwarves often sing on birthdays, and all of us are going to learn it! I've already translated it and goes like this:

Gold, gold, gold, _gold!_

Gold, gold, _gold,_ gold!

GOLD! GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!

Happy Birthday, Carrot!

"Did everyone hear that?"

While the Watch decided this among themselves, Cheery shouted, "Now, we'll sing it again and I want you to join in if you can remember!"

They belted out,

Gold, gold, gold, g- are you sure it's gold again?

Oh, right, gold! Gold, gold, gold!

Gold, uh, silver? No, gold! _That _gold!

GOL- Birthday! Um, _whose_ birthday?

"Um, getting there," Cheery tried to sound encouraging. "We'd better do it again..."

--

Outside Flopwaddle's Fish Emporium, Carrot waited patiently while Angua held a peppermint to her nose and inhaled deeply. She didn't like peppermint, but it was better than fish. Usually the smell of Carrot could cheer her up, but... fish!

"Maybe some property agent walked through eating chocolate," Carrot said. "Prospective buyers, even. It's a good piece of land."

"Fish!" Angua exclaimed bitterly, because there was absolutely nothing else on her mind at the moment. "I hate fish!"

"We'll get you a bowl of steam back at the Watch house," Carrot said kindly.

The Watch house... thought Angua enviously, as they walked back. I wonder how Cheery's faring?

--

"Okay, okay," Cheery hollered, hoarse and an octave lower than usual, "One at a time... yes, Colon?"

"The tune is impossible to sing!" Fred Colon declared magnificently.

"Well, I can do it and I sound even worse than you right now, which is saying something... yes, Detritus?"

Detritus, who had raised a hand timidly, rumbled, "The words are... are diffy-cult to... difficult to..."

"Remember?" Cheery ventured, already afraid of the answer.

There was a pause.

"Yuh," said Detritus.

--(5)

(1) It is a rare trick to be able to squirm really well while still standing up.

(2) Turkeyfish have deep emotional and spiritual needs. Without a light source, they would not only be completely disorientated but live meaningless lives without true purpose, which everyone knows makes their meat disconcertingly gooey.

(3) You know, when you haven't been drinking enough water.

(4) Use your imagination.

(5) No C/A fluff, I know, but maybe some suggestions(5) might help...?

(6) Sorry, love, a shower is a bit tricky, plus the bathroom is presently Nobby's domain.


	3. Chapter 3

I am sorry to say the plot sounded better in my head than it is shaping up on screen and characters are taking on a _mind of their own in my head _(why is that not surprising?). Stay with me, about one more chapter to go.

Dwarvish here (another dialect, perhaps?) salutes Taiwanese gameshows, where the host cries jubilantly, "Come some music!" Or so I hear.

--

Angua peeked behind a sheet of paper, and then quickly covered the window up again. "Moon's out already," she told Cheery. "So the paper's working."

Cheery was carefully balancing arranging several large carrots around a very large carrot that was stabbed straight through the heart of a very, very large carrot cake and didn't answer.

A few other members of the Watch who had come in early were lighting candles and adding other finishing touches to the back room. Out of the corner of her eye, Angua saw Nobby sprint to a table, snatch some of the finishing touches away and run off again.

Vimes, who had been fishing carrots slices out of the vat of beer ("It's _not _a good idea, Cheery, it tastes _odd _now..."), made an incoherent sound best described as "Grrbbrrbbubble." Then he shouted, "I spent two hours on the squishi display!"

"Somebody fix that," Cheery mumbled without turning around. Everyone else in the room avoided eye contact with Vimes.

"Grrggrrbbubble," said Vimes, face turning red.

"I'll do it, sir," Angua volunteered reluctantly. She prodded a few pieces about with a chopstick, trying not to inhale too deeply. To take her mind off the fish smell, she asked Vimes, "Did you make these, sir?"

"Oh no," Vimes chuckled, "Sybil did. Courtesy of Flopwaddle."

She thought it'd smelled familiar. She poked carefully at wobbly, striped, spotted and extremely heavy squishi, "I've never even seen most of these... varieties before."

"Sybil calls it her Zen Platter of Mousefish, Zebrafish, Dragonfish(1) and Elephantfish," Vimes replied, carefully refraining from making any comment.

Angua tacitly agreed it for the was best. "Still no word of that missing jewelry?"

"None," Vimes growled. "And too many damn fish. Sybil keeps some monkeyfish in a bowl and I swear they hate my face. She says it's good for young Sam's education," he added with a sigh, indicating that indeed, this had settled the matter.

Angua's ears prickled. Her senses were at their sharpest at full moon. Someone was coming down the stairs.

"Carrot's coming," she hissed.

Cheery's hand stopped mid-air, holding a bit of carrot that had been artfully carved into a flower. Her mouth was a perfect 'O' in horror. "He can't come in! We're not ready yet!" she gasped. She was really taking this seriously.

"Everyone, turn around," Angua said, and she only had to say it once. There was a clang of armor, and then something pale and blonde streaked(2) out of the room.

--

Carrot came down the stairs.

"Hello, Angua," he said amiably. "Full moon, then?" Angua nodded. "Has Vimes started the budget meeting yet?"

Angua shook her head. Carrot gave her a scratch behind the ears, which usually annoyed her because it tangled her fur, but Carrot seemed to enjoy doing it, so she made an appreciative murmur. Then he said, "Come on, Vimes says the meeting is important so we musn't dilly-dally."

Angua whined and nodded towards the door, which was the usual signal for _let's go for a walk_, and gave his fingers a tentative lick. Mmm, she caught herself thinking, that's _nice. _Her senses were _definitely_ sharper during... _mmmm..._

"That tickles!" said Carrot. "Hmm. Do you smell food?"

Warning bells sliced through the warm, happy fluff in Angua's head. She shook her head vigorously, and sadly, the warm, happy fluff wafted out.

Carrot sniffed the air again and shrugged. "Must have been mistaken. Oh, there you are, sir," he added, as Vimes carefully eased his way through the door.

"Uh, hello Carrot," said Vimes jovially and with unnecessary gusto, "It's nice to see you here early as always but we've already finished the meeting!"

"Excellent, sir!" Carrot said with genuine surprise and joy. "And the outcome, sir?"

Vimes struggled for an instant and then answered, "The usual."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm not too familiar with budget plans, sir, what _is_ the usual?" Carrot inquired politely.

"Taxes," Vimes replied automatically.

He looked to Angua for inspiration. Angua wagged her tail innocently.

"More taxes," he amended. "On, uh-" Vimes glanced at Carrot, "Vegetables. To vegetable-exporting countries." He added, gruffly, "You needn't worry, I've already briefed Angua and she's going to handle everything."

Angua rolled her eyes.

Vimes propped a smile up on his face. "I remember you were asking for leave today, Carrot?"

Carrot looked stricken. He leaned over and muttered, "Was expecting some visitors but they might be a bit late sir don't need tonight off sir sir please don't tell Angua it's supposed to be a surprise sir."

Aware that Angua could hear every word of Carrot's already-audible undertone, Vimes nodded freely.

"So I could catch up on my paperwork tonight, sir?" Carrot asked.

Angua cocked her head to the door again.

"It's a nice night," Vimes said quickly. Inward he cringed. _Moonlight. Very, very romantic. _"Why don't you take Angua for a- ah, go for a walk with Angua?"

Carrot snapped to attention. "And Quarry Lane, sir!"

--

"Where have all the carrots gone?" Cheery hummed to herself, staring down the beer vat. _Ho hum, didn't realize dwarf beer was such abrasive stuff..._

There came a bloodcurdling howl from outside. A chill ran down Cheery's spine, such that she dropped the carrot she was holding, which disappeared with a sullen _gloop._

--

Time passed. Stuff happened. In the back room, Cheery's jaw dropped.

"Uncle Stronginthearm?" she said weakly. "Uncle Stronginthetoe? Nephew Stronginthethroat? And... Uncle Strongintheunmentionables?(3)"

Four dwarves were standing in the room. They were clutching foaming tankards of beer, which thoughtfully had their names printed on them(4), except for Strongintheunmentionables, whose name didn't fit. Instead, he had brought three mugs which read 'Strongint', 'heunmenti' and 'onables'. He liked the letters spaced out.

Stronginthearm raised his head. Beer dripped down his beard. "Heard there was a party for our young friend Captain Carrot!"

"A _Watch_ party, uncle," Cheery said, with great distress.

"I feel sick," Nephew Stronginthethroat mumbled. "Why're the windows pappapepapapared up?

The dwarves exchanged quick glances. Without warning, a routine jolted into place. Stronginthetoe ripped the paper off the nearest window, ignoring Cheery's protests. Moonlight streamed into the room. Strongintheunmentionables pushed the window open and nephew Stronginthethroat had a well-timed and hearty barf out of it.

"Uncle!" Cheery wailed, since railing at Stronginthethroat would clearly do no good at all.

"Sorry for all that," Stronginthearm announced politely to all, as his beard continued to drip carrot beer on the floor. "Stronginthethroat hasn't grown into 'is name yet! He just needs a little more practice, is all! Huh ho!"

Before Cheery could respond, Vimes came up to her with a whole gang of dwarves, one with a tankard the size of a punch bowl.

"These fine fellows here," Vimes said awkwardly, "say they're your Uncles Strongintheheel, Stronginthenostril, Stronginthelung, Stronginthescalp-"

Cheery sighed. "Don't bother," she told him. The dwarves had just launched merrily into the first verse of "Gold, gold, gold, gold."

--

Angua was sulking. Only Carrot would want to see cold, slippery fish on his birthday, she thought, changing into the bundle of clothes she also kept the the entrance of the Watch house, head reeling from the smells of the past half hour. Summary: Fish, cold, smelly, slippery fish. Fish, wet, scaly dead fish, chocolate, where did the chocolate come from, I like chocolate, Carrot's standing behind me, chocolate, _oh Carrot and chocolate - _fish! Fish! Fish!

"Fish!" Angua yelped. What if-

"It's okay," Carrot said soothingly, interrupting her thoughts, "We're back at the Watch house already, we're going to go into the back room, where for some reason I hear chortles, singing and clinking, and you're going to be just fine." He paused. "Hmm. Is that 'Gold, gold, gold, gold' I hear?"

Angua pulled herself together and mustered the most charming smile she could come up with at the moment. "Carrot," she began, running her fingers down his arm, "You do know what day it is today, don't you?"

"The day of the Siege of the Daffodils," Carrot said promptly. "And the day chopsticks-"

_"Carrot!"_

"Well... I did mean to tell you..." Carrot shuffled his feet. "I told Sergeant Vimes I was planning to take leave today, because today's..."

Angua smiled and threw the door open.

And then she snarled, and slammed it shut again.

--

The party in full swing, but suddenly froze as Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson stepped in the door, shutting it carefully behind him. Then he boggled at the drunken party dwarves and the orange and carroty display of food.

"Um," he said, sounding surprised. "What's this?"

Cheery raised her hands triumphantly and began, "Gold-"

Carrot cleared his throat loudly. The room fell silent.

"Speech!" Cheery cried desperately.

Carrot took a deep breath and said, "Could someone please cover all the windows?"

There was a bustle and a rustle and quite a bit of beer slopping on the floor. Detritus gallantly stood in front of one of the windows, but nothing else could be found to block the others.

Vimes appeared by Carrot's side, holding a fishnet with a few carrots in it. "Angua can't come in?" he muttered.

"No," said Carrot sadly. "Well, never mind."

He raised his hand, saluted and gave everyone a jaunty wave.

"Sorry for interrupting everyone!"

And then he left the room.

--

Angua looked up in surprise as Carrot came back out.

"Someone's holding a party," he told her, "but someone took off those papers you covered the windows with, so I guess I'll just have to walk you home."

Angua stared blankly at him.

"Or I could nip in and get you a carrot," Carrot offered. "I wonder why there are so many-" He stopped mid-sentence.

Cheery screamed from inside, "Uncle Stronginthetonsil!"

"Carrot, it's your birthday party," Angua said weakly.

"Birthday party?"

"The Watch threw it for you," she continued.

"For me?"

"Yes."

Carrot stared at his sandals. Then he said, "_For _me?"

"Yes."

Carrot stared at his sandals. Then he said, "For _me?_"

"Yes." If she had to be any more direct she would start banging her head on the wall...

Carrot stared at his sandals again. Than we said, in an oddly choking voice, "It's wonderful."

And Angua's heart melted into a happy little puddle inside her.

That is, until Cheery shrieked, "_Uncle Stronginthepimple!_"(4) and burst into a flood of noisy tears.

Angua stood on tiptoe and gave Carrot a quick brush on the lips. "You'd better go in, for the sake of Cheery's sanity," she murmured in his ear. "They've been rehearsing all week."

Blushing slightly, Carrot nodded. "I'll come out to see you as soon as I can. Would you like me to bring you anything?"

Yes, Angua thought, a really big tub of hot melted chocolate... hot chocolate?

"Yes, Carrot," she said dreamily, but something about hot chocolate was nagging at her. She tried to fight it down.

"Carrots it is. I'll be right back," Carrot promised.

"Oh, wait," Angua remembered. "How old are you, Carrot?"

Carrot pressed his lips together, and then grinned suddenly. "Well, I don't know!" he said impishly (as opposed to sheepishly) and vanished into the room.

Almost immediately after, a stout pair of dwarves getting on in years came in, carrying suitcases. That is, rocks with handholds. A couple, probably, but with dwarves you could never be sure...

Oh well, Angua thought, may as well make myself useful.

"Hello," she said, trying to smile in a friendly manner, "are you friends of Captain Carrot?"

--

Oddly was smiling the blonde human and Ankh-Morporkian was the nature of the speech of the human of the feminine nature, and the dwarves comprehended/absorbed/ate with pickles it not.

"We do not speak Ankh-Morporkian," said severely the dwarf of the more feminine nature.

Before the hesitation, confused the human seemed. Come some hesitation! After the hesitation, of a Dwarvish nature was the nervous speech, "Hello..."

"Gold, gold, _gold, _gold!" (come some melodious music!)

The human raised her voice. "I am a gooseberry tart," she declared.

The two dwarves exchanged puzzled looks. Replied the dwarf of the more masculine nature, "That's nice, dear."

"Gold, gold, gold, _gold!_"

The human began shouting, "Are you apple strudels?"

Eyebrows of the two dwarves, the, performed the act of lifting. At each other looked the two dwarves. "No," answered they together.

"GOLD! GOLD-"

It appeared, the human was not in the possibility to hear. Shouted the human, "Do you know Captain Carrot?"

"Ah! Captain Carrot," said the dwarf of a more feminine nature, crinkled into a smile the face of, in the nature of papyrus that is poor and soggy. "Yes, we know Carrot. Where is he?"

"_Happy Birthday, Carrot!_"

"In the peach cobbler," said the human, looking relieved.

Squinted at her the dwarves, come some squint! The human shifted uncomfortably.

At last, "In," the human with thick accent of the tongue, and pointed to the door.

Of a stiff nodding, the dwarves performed the act of exiting.

--

Full prosaic sentences of Dwarvish are archaic, elaborate and seldom used, except by the most stern and respectable dwarves. Youngsters these days do not hold with it, and so the grammar has gone without an update for centuries. It has proven difficult to translate...

--

Angua sagged against the door. She would really have to work on her Dwarvish, her vocabulary was really lacking.

Inside, she could hear Carrot say, "Angua did mention you didn't know for sure, but do I really look eight years old?"

--(5)

(1) Who says Dragonfish aren't spotty? There is not a species on the Disc that does not have trouble with spots.

(2) This is also known as a pune or play on words.

(3) Even upside-down and backwards, for when the party's been on for more than half the night.

(4) Dwarves are no exception to number 1.

(5) Angua will not relinquish Carrot, but the author would still be quite happy with a pot of hot melted chocolate and a review or two. (:


	4. Chapter 4

Stronginthecuticle

I am bursting to say this: I went to a Thud! signing and someone asked, "Will Carrot and Angua ever marry?"

And Terry spake thus, "I don't know! Probably... yes!"

I am full of happy thoughts.

I finally read Guards! Guards! and I don't _think_ Carrot's parents had to speak Morporkian; I think I can just get away with it. Anyway, for fanfiction's sake.

Logic goes out the window. All the fanfiction somehow ends up involving the girlfriend getting whacked on the head and swooning. And the boyfriend _has_ to cradle her to his chest and run gallantly. (This is the only fandom where we run from moonlight rather than explosions!) Sorry for the drop in quality, fellas. I'm just happy I got to write a fic where people don't die after kissing... the two tend to go together somehow.

Note: I finished the plot of this before Thud! came out. Just so you know. Therefore no showers, and a bit of a surprise at the end...

--

Cheery flopped down on a chair and gulped her carrot beer down thirstily. Vimes was cutting the cake with surprising swordsmanship, and she'd seen Colon sneak an extra piece out. So the Protest Again Tax Cuts had another supporter, only one with less guts.

She sighed happily. The squishi had been a hit, and people had really taken to the carrot-on-a-stick. It was proof. Cheery Littlebottom could Cook. Now, finally, being in touch with your feminine side would be seen in a more positive light...

Two older, stout, stern-faced dwarves approached her. You could tell they were stern and respectable dwarves because of all the worry lines on their faces, but at the present they were beaming. The male dwarf was eating a carrot bagel. Those had been popular too.

"We saw what an excellent job you did with the party," the female dwarf smiled.

"Not at all," Cheery said with a modest smile.

"And humble too," the female said proudly, and the male nodded. "So kind of you to do this for our Carrot. We're Mr. and Mrs. Ironfoundersson. You must be Angua. Carrot's told us a lot about you."

Cheery spluttered into her beer and some went up her nose. Carrot beer on the brain!

"We thought Carrot might go for, you know, his own kind," Mrs. Ironfoundersson continued, "but you seem like a good dwarf for him. And he did say you were shorter than him.(1)"

"But I'm not Angua!" Cheery sputtered, dropping her mug on the floor. "Wait - we'll go see Angua now."

She tugged them through the throng and out the door, where Angua was mumbling about fish.

"_This_ is Angua of a feminine nature," Cheery said loudly and slowly in Dwarvish. "She's your son's friend of a romantic nature." She glanced at Angua, who looked stunned, and muttered in Ankh-Morporkian, "Tell them you're Carrot's girlfriend!"

Angua appeared to concentrate. "Yes, I am a watermelon cupcake." (2)

There was silence.

"No, you're not!" Cheery squawked. "Nuances, Angua, Dwarvish is delicate! Say it again."

Angua managed it, barely.

"No, she's not," Mr. Ironfoundersson said worriedly. "She said she was a gooseberry tart just now."

Cheery struggled and said, "Her name translates badly. And her accent is of an Uberwald nature."

"Uberwald!" Mrs. Ironfoundersson gasped. "Does she then have a mind of a rock-solid nature?"

"Yes," Angua retorted angrily, "I do have blueberry muffins."

The dwarves gasped. Mr. Ironfoundersson choked on bagel crumbs.

"Anguathatisnotsomethingyousayinpublic!" Cheery whispered in a strangled voice.

"What?" Angua whispered back.

"_Connotations_, Angua! You definitely have blueberry muffins but you don't tell everyone in public!"

"I did not say blueberry muffins!"

"Yes, you did! Now, quick, say that you have performed an error of a most grave nature. Blusjdken yryt'umblws gum'wn'mwent'oki lufkd w'vancwpt."

Angua bit her lip. "Blusjdken... yryt, yryt'umbl-ws..."

Sweat beaded on Cheery's forehead. "Gum'wn'mwent'oki..." she repeated slowly.

--

Carrot drizzled some carrotsauce over a carrot in a bun and carried it out of the back room.

He was just in time to hear Angua announce, "I have performed a chocolate cheesecake."(4)

All heads turned to stare at him.

Carrot began to blush so hard that you could hear the _ppshhhhhhh_ as the color steadily washed over his face and down his neck. His eyes began to cross slightly.

With a battle cry that would have impressed a might dwarf general of old(5), Mrs. Ironfoundersson snatched her husband's bagel and hurled it with deadly accuracy to its target, which was the middle of Angua's forehead. She toppled over quite neatly.

Carrot's adoptive parents craned their necks up – _waaaay _up. Mrs. Ironfoundersson dusted the crumbs off her hands and said in quite a motherly voice, "Hello, son. Look at you, you're such a son of a big big big nature now!"

Carrot dropped to his knees and gave his adoptive mother a hug. He gave his adoptive father a hug. Then he carefully arranged Angua on his shoulder.

"Mum, I love her," he said simply. "But I've tried everything and she still speaks terrible Dwarvish."

Mrs. Ironfoundersson dipped her head. "Very well," she said. "But I do not regret my actions. Your honor was at stake!"

Mr. Ironfoundersson looked sadly at his bagel, which was still rolling on the floor.

"I'll have to talk to you later, mum and dad," Carrot added, "And I'm sure you'll love Angua when you get to know her better."

The two older dwarves exchanged looks again. Finally Mrs. Ironfoundersson leaned forward and said something in Carrot's ear, pressing something Cheery couldn't see into his hand. He blushed somewhat more.

Then he stood up, cradling Angua to his chest.

"Not your room," Cheery said quickly. "Igor's sick bay at the present."

"The bathroom," said Carrot decisively. "We'll just have to run through the back room and we'll be safe upstairs."

"Why run?" asked Mr. Ironfoundersson.

"Oh, Angua's a werewolf," Carrot said casually. "But only three nights a month!"

Cheery threw open the door and they ran.

--

Carrot stood with his back to the solitary window along the corridor as Cheery pounded on the bathroom door.

"Open up, Nobby!"

"No!"

"Are you doing anything illegal or embarrassing, Nobby?" Carrot asked.

"No!"

"Then I declare this an emergency," Carrot said, and kicked the door open.

Nobby was squatting by the wooden washtub with a mug of cocoa and a slice of cake.

"You're not allowed- what happened to her?"

"Bagel injury," said Carrot. He dipped his hand in the sink and sprinkled a few drops of water on Angua's face, but nothing happened.

"Went down the wrong way?"

Carrot explained patiently, "Victims hit by a dwarf bagel don't usually like to be woken up. They just want to sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep."

"Ooh, I know what you can for that," Nobby said surprisingly. He stuck his hand into the washtub and pulled out a wriggling pigfish. Cheery peered into the tub. It was full of fish – wolffish, ghostfish, frogfish, snakefish...

"Oh, good thinking," Carrot said. "Just hold it under her nose, she's coming round already."

Nobby slipped the pigfish down the back of Angua's shirt.

There was a moment were time seemed to stop, just a moment.

And then Angua's eyes shot open and she leapt up.

And then she screamed, "_I hate these fishing fish!_"

And then she flung the pigfish at the door. It thumped, flopped down, and wriggled feebly.

Angua sat down and buried her face in her hands. Carrot rubbed her comfortingly on the back.

Nobby bent to retrieve the pigfish. "You made it choke!" he complained. "Look."

He held up something small and round and white.

"Is that its stomach?" Carrot gasped, horrified.

"It's a... _pearl_," Angua said. I smelled chocolate... Realization dawned on her. "Nobby, have you been in Flopwaddle's Fish Emporium stealing fish?"

"Well, they don't really belong to anyone now, do they? And Fred says these toadfish are really something..."

Angua snatched up a toadfish and threw it at the door, where it again thumped satisfactorily. Something small and hard skittered across the floor. Cheery picked it up and squinted at it.

"I don't know, they're not very pretty, are they?" she mused, true to her gold, gold, gold, golden roots. "And I thought oysters had shells?"

Angua, grinning delightedly, held a particularly fat ratfish by its tail and slapped it hard on the floor. A small gold ring rolled out. Cheery's eyes gleamed.

Carrot tentatively held a dogfish around its middle and tried to massage the lump out.

Thump, thump.

"Um, Angua, if you squeeze gently, it still comes ou- oh, uh, Nobby, what's this?"

Thump, thump, thump.

After two more fish Angua began laughing uncontrollably, especially watching Nobby try and return the fish to the washtub. He didn't realize she'd made a hole in the side.

--

(1) This is not an unkindness on Carrot's part as it often is with tall people. Dwarf etiquette dictates that the female should be shorter than the male, if possible. This is often hard to tell with dwarves, of course, but it is an interesting idea of how the race might have started off.

(2) _Connotations._ The cupcake is roughly equivalent to our lead musket ball, and vaguely alludes to violence.

(3) More bad connotations.

(4) Absolutely _shocking_ connotations. Never, never, _never _to be repeated outside the bedroom.

(5) Except the one she was married to, who was quite used to it.


	5. Chapter 5

A series of 2:44 a.m.s, brushing my teeth in front of the computer and nearly falling asleep in front of it... I have eyebags but we have fish... and FLUFF!

Cheers, and thanks for all the support through this. Happy reading, and the reviews and reviewers are just _wonderful._ Jess: thinking about my punishment for writing Legacy. BlankNed: I _rather_ hope it's marriage and _then_ puppies. First, ahem, for moral reasons (though I reckon it's a bit late for that). Second, because even though it's Ankh-Morpork it must be a little hard finding a dress made for, say, five? ;;

--

The full moon had shrouded itself sufficiently for Angua to walk on two legs outside. She could have done with four, though – Cheery had really wanted someone other than Grandfather Stronginthenostril to finish the beer, and after five or six rounds it didn't taste like carrots anymore...

"Blusjdken... hgtrr'uz... ni'mnths... schjrantuw," said Carrot slowly and clearly, for the umpteenth time.

"Blusjdken actress nimuntha shruntow," Angua giggled. "Dwarvish is easy!"

"You're not tired of this, Angua?"

"Tired? Oh, noooo," said Angua gleefully, "I just had so much fun... did you know that skunkfish have a higher pitch than foxfish when you throw them against a hollow wooden door?"

"No, I didn't," Carrot replied with genuine interest.

They had reached Mrs. Cake's establishment. Angua fumbled for her keys and unlocked the front door slowly, leaning against it slightly to keep it open, looking at Carrot expectantly. Carrot cleared his throat, looking at Angua expectantly.

"Good night, Carrot. Oh, right," Angua said dazedly, "I'm sorry I said... said my Dwarvish with a funny accent in front of your parents, Carrot."

"It's alright. Mum's been wanting to practice her standard insult vengeance for years. You know, I think you two really hit it off."

Angua laughed. "No, my head's still on! Isn't it!"

Carrot just stood, looking at her with an expression best be described as wonder. Then without warning, he put his arms around her and kissed her tenderly. It was a while before Angua pulled away, face an inch from his, breathing slowly.

"It doesn't matter what my parents think, Angua. At least, not as much as what I think." He gave her a kindly look. "Why the puzzlement?"

"You didn't say good night first," Angua explained, eyes wide, "And you didn't check to see if anyone else-"

"It's my _birthday_, Angua," Carrot smiled, and kissed her again. And again. And again.

The door closed firmly behind them.

It was a very happy birthday.

--

The Society of Fascinating and Unusual Fish wishes me to raise further awareness of some of their members, in particular the ghostfish, whose lugubrious existence is widely speculated but mostly denied. We know they are innocent and practice peaceful meditation, but the People's Brotherhood feel that the ghostfish go against the Upheld Values of truth, tolerance and forbearance. Occasionally the arms of those holding the placards of the Values tired of Upholding them, and that is when we at the Society smuggle quantities of ghostfish into Ankh-Morpork using mule-drawn container wagons.

We appeal to you today, gentle reader, in the hopes that you will henceforth continue to support the Society and its causes, triads and brothers-in-law. War is not peace! Freedom is not slavery! Pleading ignorance is futile!

On the other hand, you'd probably much rather read more about Carrot and Angua.

--

The morning after...

Angua opened her eyes slowly. Carrot was absent-mindedly running his fingers through her hair and gazing out the window with a faraway look in his eyes. It was a glorious late morning. She tried to suppress a yawn, unsuccessfully.

Carrot turned, and the way he looked at her sent a thrill down her spine. "Good morning, Angua," he said, completely unaware of the effect the sight of him undressed and sitting in bed had on her. She felt her heart jump. "Did you sleep well?"

_Oh, absolutely... _"My head... throbbs," Angua said distractedly.

Carrot nodded. "Dwarf beer," he laughed. "Remember last night?"

She cuddled up next to him. "I remember. Happy birthday... oh! I didn't get you a birthday present, Carrot!"

"It doesn't matter," Carrot said with a funny smile, "I got you something. My mum brought it down, actually..."

Kneeling beside her, he slid something onto her ring finger.

Angua was struck speechless.

To break what he thought was an awkward silence, Carrot said, "It's just a diamond ring. Dwarves tend to prefer gold, but I thought you... you know... Of course, you don't have to... well, I mean... the offer's there."

Angua still couldn't say anything.

"You do know I love you," Carrot murmured.

Angua leaned on his shoulder, taking his hand in hers. He is so good, she thought to herself. I didn't think it would work out, but he just won't let himself let me down...

"Yes," she said softly, "I do."

--

end.

--

Done. I know there's a huge mistake – Vimes couldn't have read Carrot's letter if it were in Dwarfish, but deedahdeedahdeedah...

P.S. Should be back before too long with one about Valentine's Day – especially if you tell me if you liked this one, or someone bakes me chocolate cheesecake. What did you think of it in the previous chapter anyhow?


End file.
